The Persian Rose
by India Azul
Summary: Living in Persia as the Angel of Doom, Erik's life is changed forever after an unexpected gift from the Shah arrives. But even when seen through rose tinted glasses, can there ever really be such a thing as the Rosy Hours of Mazandera? Kay based
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of Phantom of the Opera, except the plot of this particular fan fiction and the secondary characters in it. Please ask permission to reproduce or publish any parts of this story, as it my creation.

**About this phic: **For those of you that may recognise this story, all is explained on my user page

**Note:** This work of fiction is based on Susan Kay's 'Phantom', and her interpretation of Erik's time in Persia. **This story contains sex scenes, drug usage / references, strong language and violence. You are forewarned. However, this chapter is clear of most of the above. **

**Chapter One **

It was a clear starry night, I observed, as I stood on my balcony, overlooking the aptly named 'Turquoise Courtyard.' It was a strange thing that I had lived in the same lavish apartment for around sixteen months now, and yet this was the first time that I'd ventured onto the balcony, I was a busy man, I had little time to squander admiring my surroundings. In accordance with the courtyard below, the balcony was tiled with small glass pieces in varying shades of blue, green and purple, to form the shape of peacock on the balustrades, it was quite beautiful, it had to be said. But then again everything in this palace was beautiful, or so it seemed. There were fabulous gardens and courtyards dotted all about the place, each filled with exotic flowers and animals, tulips from Holland, orchids from China, lotus from India, even English roses had their place amongst the traditional Persian foliage of hibiscus, bougainvillea, oleanders and jasmine.

The interior of the place was equally amazing, every single room being lined with the finest things. Money seemed to be no object here, silk, gold, marble and jewels were used as freely as if they were dust. The palace was spectacular, yet it was my task to build a palace even more dazzling and fantastic, the most magnificent palace in the East, something to sneer at the 'Lal Qila Fort' in India, and make the 'Dolmabahce Palace' that the Ottoman Sultan was building, look like a peasant's hut. Building such a place was no easy task, but a challenge that the greatest, most innovative architect the world had to offer was more than able to rise to. That architect was, of course, me, and when completed my palace would be nothing less than that best in Asia, but then the Shah and his dear mother must always have the best….

The best food, the best wines, the best girls, the best entertainers; nothing was too good for the Shah, the Glory of the World, the Shadow of Allah, and indeed The Khanum, mother of the sovereign, deserved nothing but the very best. The most precious jewels, the rarest furs, and the world's most talented magician; some masked fellow who was seen travelling about Europe, whose tent was filled with the most breathtaking illusions and tricks in the world. I, of course, was this fellow. It was the Khanum's whim, and her desire for diversion, that brought me from the travelling fairs of Europe to the Persian capital of Mazandera, and service at his court, but it was the Shah's wish that lead me to become the architect for his new palace, which was to be situated in Ashraf.

I have never tried to curry favour with the Shah in Shah, but even so he must have found my disposition most attractive as he hired me to carry out more than a few horrors, be it tortures, political assassinations or simply amusing deaths to entertain the Khanum; I was the perfect man for any such task. I knew I was behaving like the devil himself, but I suppose I retained some of the title issued upon me by the gypsies, besides no matter what atrocities I committed, no matter how many people I killed at the request of the Shah and his mother, I did nothing so terrible that I couldn't blot it out with a puff of my hookah, stuffed with either opium or hashish, depending on my mood.

Although I have only lived in Persia for just over a year and a half, it is hard for me to remember the life that I had before I came to be a figure in Persian court society. When I try to remember how I filled my days before I was at the permanent, demanding service of the Shah and his mother, my mind fails, and I am forced to shrug my shoulders. With my time so filled with endless work as I attempt to satisfy the wholly conflicting demands of my two masters, I find it hard to imagine a time when I had endless free time to fill with study and discovery, but them I suppose many aspects of my life have changed since I have arrived in Persia.

Since my arrival, I had been an object of constant interest to the members of the Persian Court, not only for my displays of magic, but for my mysterious nature and that permanent enigma, my mask. The most curious of all my spectators, was of course the Khanum; a dangerously attractive woman with an even more dangerous nature. She was sharp and devious, that I could tell from my first meeting with her. She enjoyed my magic and admired my skills I'm sure, but I soon discovered that there was something she enjoyed even more; torture. Her body seemed to crave it was an almost sexual lust, so much so that they often became rather merged, she had a warped mind, with desires almost as distorted as my own, and a sadistic imagination that at times reminded me of myself. Perhaps that was why I knew her character so well, and was able to please her so easily; at times our similarities gave me chills.

Yet despite our crude similarities, I was not attracted to the Khanum, her nature often repulsed me for it reminded me too much of my own tyranny, but had she offered herself to me, I know I would have taken her. I had never received so much as a kiss on the cheek from a woman, and despite the many books that I had read and the many thing that I had learnt from my time in Persia, sex was still a mystery to me. I knew how it occurred and out of almost morbid interest, had read plenty about it of, but having never experienced it, I had never known how it felt. It frustrated me that I knew so much, that I had more knowledge of it than most men, yet would never share my knowledge with another creature. It didn't just frustrate me, it bore into be and ate away at me, leaving me bitter and resentful of other men, who foolishness lead them to pleasures that I would never know. This was something that the Khanum immediately picked up on and used it to torture me as best she could.

She would ask me the most personal questions she could think of, and then cackle at my indirect answers, she loved to taunt me about sex as best she could, I often wondered if it gratified her, for she seemed to gain such pleasure from my humiliation.

"Tell me Erik, what do you find most pleasurable about a naked women? Is it their large, voluptuous breasts, with their hard little nipples just crying out to be touched by you? Is it their shapely thighs, tightening around your buttocks as you carry them to your bedchamber? Or is it that most special womanly place itself, neat and tight, welcoming and warm, giving you pleasure in unimaginably large quantities?

She would smile slyly, knowing the frustration she was filling me with; finding it so amusing to let me know that so long as I were so very ugly, no woman on earth would want to even think about touching me. I was a disgusting, repulsive creature, surely a woman would rather die than let me touch her, even if my touches would bring her the greatest pleasure a man can give. The palace was filled with girls, beautiful young specimens, trained in the art of pleasuring men; available to any of the Shah's most favoured associates. I was an incredibly powerful man and if I had been handsome I could have my pick of any of them, at any time; but I wasn't handsome and not even the lowliest harlot would not lay her hands on me.

The barmy night air, filled with the scent of jasmine from the courtyard wafted across my face, causing me to sigh. There had been yet another lavish party held in the palace that night, only this time I had been forced to attend it; to serve as entertainment with my illusions and ventriloquism. The entire evening had been a torture in itself, having so many beautiful dancing girls around me; their tight, gauze clothes clinging to their perfect bodies, leaving little to the male imagination. While the majority danced for the entire ensemble of guests, the most important members of court were given their own personal little show as they lay on their divans, sucking sweet meats and smoking their aromatic pipes.

I could not held but overhear the conversations of other men, deciding which girl they would call to them that night, or if they would select one of their personal concubines. Once a man had decided, he would approach the girl and invite her to his bed. If she accepted they would continue to dance until the party was over, and then leave with the man in question, her arm around his waist and her hips swaying form side to side as he showed her straight to his chamber where he would undoubtedly enjoy her exactly as he pleased until the sun rose over the palace.

How I was tempted. Despite my extraordinary abilities, my intelligence, my skills, my strength and even my freakish deformity, I was a man like any other, and it was at parties like these that I became all too aware of it. It was only now, as I stood out on the balcony, that my physically evident desire was beginning to subside, without the aid of a woman to assist it. The fact was that I was twenty two, one of the most powerful men in Persia, and still a virgin, a shaming thought. I looked down at the outline of the large, demanding lump, clearly visible in my silk pyjama bottoms and shook my head.

It was I stood there, staring up at the inky blue sky that I heard a series of demanding thumps on the door leading on my apartment. I wondered who it could be at this hour, I was ill costumed to receiving guests at any time, let alone in the middle of the night, and for a moment I was filled with concern. Yet this concern was unfounded, my door was permanently guarded by two strong Negros, of the sort that would ensure no unwanted 'guest; would make it to the point of knocking on my front door. I stood still for a moment, before deciding that the knock must be from Nadir, the Daroga of Mazandera and my only likely visitor. He too had been at the party tonight, and part of me fancied that he had come to congratulate me on my performance or simply provide me with a little company. After a moments hesitation; (for I was wearing only my pyjama bottoms,) I tossed on by intricately embroidered night robe and opened the door.

I have seen many shocking things in my life, but this was by far the most surprising for in my doorway stood Nadir, only he was not alone, far from. Indeed, he was in the company of two Chinese eunuchs, a veiled harem girl held tightly in their grasp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **The text in italics is copied directly from Susan Kay's 'Phantom', the other text is my own work. Also, the rating may go up to an 'M' in the new few chapters, so if you are using a K-T filter and can't find this story, you'll need to change the filter range. Happy Year New everyone, I hope you all have a good one! I also hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review!

**Chapter Two **

For a moment I stood still, glued to the spot as I stretched my arm across the door frame, to prevent my strange party of visitors from coming any further. Slowly, and cautiously Nadir came forth from the eunuchs and approached me with a grave expression, his fingers fumbling with the cuffs of his robe, revealing his nerves.

"Good evening, Khan Erik, the Shah has sent me to accompany these two slaves of the realm on your apartment tonight, please step aside so that we may enter ." Nadirs voice was unmistakably shaky, and I took advantage of his obvious lack of courage and didn't move a muscle.

"Step aside Erik, it is the will of the Shah-in-Shah that we enter." Nadir's voice was firmer now, he back straighter and his manner all together more authoritative, he didn't scare me in the least, no man will ever have the power to scare me, but something in his voice made me curious, I stood aside and let him pass, the eunuchs slowly following him six paces behind.

The burning tea lights of my living shed a soft light on him that revealed his creased brow and face riddled with lines of anxiety. He was wearing his stern, 'state official' face, but behind it I could see upset and regret, expressions that stirred a sense of ill omen deep in my soul. He gave an authoritative cough and straightened his posture once more, rolling back his shoulders as he did so. He took a few paces forward from the eunuchs and the girl herself, before he began to speak.

"In a wondrous gesture of the Shah's ever unquestionable, extraordinary generosity I am humbled to have been asked to present you with this gift, as a token of the Shadow of God's gratitude for your services to him and his glorious mother."

As Nadir spoke, I found my gaze slipping away from his face, and gliding over to the girl. She was a pitiful creature indeed, an unmoving body, her legs, torso and head were seemingly limp and lifeless, yet her arms were stretched taut, like those of Christ on the Cross, one in the grasp of each eunuch. I noticed that her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the only sign of life that came from her. In her crumpled position it was difficult to make out most of her figure, her head was covered by a white silk veil, with a layer of tight, white mesh over her face; from what I could see of her the rest of her attire was alluring and enticing, a sparingly used layer of silk, in a pure shade of white that suggested that she was not just a girl, but a virgin.

Nadir had finished his rehearsed speech and had evidently noticed the way that my attention had shifted entirely onto the girl, as he cleared his throat noisily before calling upon the eunuchs to bring her further into the room. The girl didn't look up as the eunuchs dragged her closer to me, but her body began to shake all the more, not that I paid her obvious fear any heed, I was far too absorbed in her appearance to contemplate her emotions. The girl was obviously young, with slim legs that lead up to a pair of what seemed full, rounded thighs and small hands, decorated in henna. She had a shapely body, blessed with a woman's curves, in all the places that men find most pleasing, so much was evident through her tight covering.

She was young. She was special. She was a virgin. She was incredibly sexually attractive. I wanted her. I'd never desired a woman as much as I did in that moment, and it was all I could do not to grab her and bury myself in her body. If lust is a deadly sin, then I should have been sucked straight down to hell.

"May I present you with the great honour of a wife, a concubine of the Shah's harem, whom the Glory of the World has decided to bless you with, denying himself of her unpicked fruits."

The Daroga's words seemed to wash over me as I starred hungrily at the girl. I could see myself removing her tiny covering and embedding myself in her brandy coloured skin. I paid no attention to her girls trembling legs, her fear seemed to urge o my desire all the more, it seemed to prove to me that it was real, that she really was here, and that she was here for one purpose. All I could focus on was my inhuman lust and the red hot desire that was burning more ferociously than it ever had before. Yet part of me remained alert, everything seemed so perfect, so suspiciously perfect that I knew there must be a trick, a cruel trick in store for me. The Khanum, she knew about my own 'unpicked fruits' and she must have easily seen how much I wanted this one thing more than anything else. After all, I had so many things; money, power, influence, but a woman? No, and I knew that the Khanum was using this girl had been brought here to be dangled in front of me, to tempt me and provoke me beyond all reason; and then be snatched away from me.

Looking away from the girl, I turned my gaze to Nadir, who stood beside her, his expression even more nervous than before; I could see the pity in his eyes. _Pity_! I could see what he was thinking, 'poor chap, so ugly even a slave girl doesn't want his corpse of a body near her'! Pity is a horrible thing to receive, it filled me with indignation, 'well Daroga, maybe for once your policeman's sixth sense will prove wrong', I thought to myself.

'_Bring her forward',_ I demanded, far more harshly than I needed to in a tone that could hardly have been considered endearing, but how was it possible for me to speak with my usual beauty when the emotions that inspired my words were so raw and ugly.

The girl didn't move, instead she remained glued to the spot, her head as bowed as it could be without snapping her neck, her hands clasped tightly together. Nadir made a sudden gesture towards the eunuchs, who seized the girl by her arms and dragged her forward, dropping her harshly before my feet. She knelt on the floor, her body hunched over in a ball, her fabric around her legs tickling my toes. I wondered what she looked like, she must be beautiful I thought to myself, I could almost smell her beauty and it made me salivate; I craved her, I had to have her.

Without any control over my actions, I snatched the veil from her head, clutching it tightly in my hands, as if to release some of the unbearable desire screeching through my body. The girl's head instantly shot up, her huge brown eyes, framed with long black lashes, were wide with fear as her expressive pupils told showed me every ounce of dread inside her.

My god she was beautiful, with rich, caramel skin, a small, graceful nose, smooth, rounded yet elegant cheeks and full, fleshy red lips that seemed to ooze passion, even as they trembled. Her long locks of luscious jet black curls cascaded down past her shoulders, releasing a wonderful aroma of lavender, begging me brush my fingers against them, an urge I had to repress. Her face was obviously that of a young girl, but then in Persia morals were different to what they were in Europe. Girls as young as twelve could be...no I said to myself firmly, that is too young, you may be in Asia, but your morals, if any are European.

"_How old are you_," I asked, aware of the aggressive, metallic quality of my voice.

Amidst a series of shaky stutters, and soft gasps for breath I heard a whispered, "_Fifteen master_," pass between her perfect lips, filling me with both undeniable relief and rich, libidinous emotions. Fifteen, an age where fruit is plenty ripe for picking, I thought to myself; well in Persia at least.

"_Have they told you what is expected of you?"_ I inquired as I desperately tried to contain myself.

There was a long silence, followed by a slow, queasy nod, and a pale, shrivelled yes. My heart jumped inside my body, I was so close, so very tantalizingly close to such a magnificent gift. A girl, a wife; one night of pure ecstasy and a true triumph in my miserable life.

I was suddenly at a crossroads; or rather a fork in the road that is life's choices. Part of me wanted her to remove my mask, to accept me into her body as I was, to take me as Erik; not the Angel of Doom. Part of me wanted to kiss her with my malformed lips and feel her caress my deformed skull. But could I honestly expect her to do that? To remove the shield that covered a visage that was too hideous for my own mother to stand? A face that drew crowds and ernt hatred and fear where ever I went?

The Khanum knew as well as I did that the only reason that I was not surrounded by women, begging for my touch and craving my affection was my face. This girl was the carrot dangled in front of a donkey to make it march to its master's whim; the carrot that the donkey would never receive, so long as it followed its master's rule. Well I was no donkey, and to reach this reward I would have to forsake the rules of game play that the Khanum had expected me to abide by. If this girl was ever going to display the slightest willing for me to take her, it would not be with my death's head proudly on display. I could deny myself the taste of her lips with my own in return for the sensations of her body.

"What is your name?" I asked in a raspy, urgent tone that I unsuccessfully tried to render seductive, as I softly caressed the top of her head with my skeletal fingers, aware of how close her head was to my bugling manhood.

The girl swallowed hard, "Adara", she stuttered, the vowels rolling sensuously off her shaking tongue.

The name she had stated evidently wasn't her birth name, but a new one she had been given upon her arrival at the harem; it was old Farsi for 'virgin'. Somehow this seemed to inflame my lust even more, and I could feel fire passing behind my eyes. Maybe these flames were visible, for it was then that Nadir quietly exited my apartments, beckoning the eunuchs to follow him.

I heard the heavy brass door clack shut and I almost gave a sigh of pleasure, knowing that the girl and I were finally alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **Third chapter - yay! This chapter contains an 'M' rated sex scene, so if that sort of things offends you, please don't read it! I'm always a little bit nervous about writing sex scenes, as I know how easy it is to get them horribly, horribly wrong, so I'd be grateful to know what you think of this chapter, and if you think it's good or simply cringe worthy, so please review!

**Chapter Three **

Adara's face spun with badly disguised alarm as the door closed on us, and she immediately turned her head to the door, her mouth falling open with fear. Normally I found the sight of fear in the fairer sex upsetting, but the fear on Adara's face served to make me feel powerful and more like a seducer than the seduced. I placed my left hand on her chin, and slowly turned her head to me, softly tracing her features with my right.

"Don't be scared my dear, I'm not going to hurt you," I uttered softly as I ran my fingers down her slender neck and allowed my left arm to slip around her waist.

I moved forward a little, so that our stomachs touched, sending shock waves through out my body. I had never touched a female like this in all my miserable twenty two years, and a sweet euphoria spread through me as I felt her silky smooth skin. Unconscious of my actions, I found myself gently pushing my groin against Adara's thigh, causing her face to become alarmed once more, as she tried to pull her body away from me. She may have tried to escape, but I wasn't going to let her go, she was my gift from the Shah, and I would make sure that tonight this beautiful creature would indeed be mine. I managed to hold her in place with my arm that was still wrapped around her waist, and softly pulled her back to me and lightly resting my chin on her shoulder, I whispered silkily into her ear.

"I am one of the most powerful men in Persia my dear, to please me is to please the Shah himself, to shy away from me is to turn from the Shah and earn his disapproval." I paused for a moment and softly massaged her lower back with my fingertips, wanting to choose the right words that would serve to inspire her skills of seduction, but frighten her into further frigidity.

"One night my dear, allow me to share with you one night of the pleasure that you have been taught to bestow upon a man; and I promise you will become one of the most enviable women in court, jewels, diamonds, gold, I will see to it that you have whatever you please. Come to me willingly and I swear I shall neither hurt nor frighten you; in fact, my dear I daresay you my find this rather enjoyable yourself, " I murmured, gently twirling one of her loose curls round my finger as I spoke.

I tilted her head so that she was looking me in the eye, she curled her quivering lips into a nervous smile, it seemed that she was ready to accept to terms of the night that lay ahead.

"I am sorry Master, I hope I have not offended you with my naivety; if I appear childish to you now, it is only because I know that tonight you will make me a woman."

Part of me knew that she was saying nothing more than a heavily rehearsed line, used a million times before by countless girls; but part of me still couldn't believe my ears. The girl was offering herself to me, offering her untouched body to a corpse with a death's head, riddled with years and years of demanding sexual desires. For a moment I wanted to send her away, tell her to take her untainted body away from my beastly body for the sake of her own sanity, but that urge was quickly quashed by the demands of manhood.

I swallowed, unable to reply, placing both my hands on her shoulders, I quickly skimmed then over her form until they came to rest on her rounded hips, allowing their fingers to explore the top of her lightly covered bottom.

Adara gave me a soft smile, and placed a soft kiss to my throat, her lips painted with a synthetic red, softly stroking my pale flesh. I suppressed a sigh of pleasure, fearing that such a sound at such a simple gesture would diminish my reputation and reveal my naivety. Instead began to caress her buttocks a little more firmly, allowing myself to have a proper feel of her. Adara's lips continued to move along my throat, whilst her delicate hands found their way to my chest, and helped my out of my night robe. Adara stopped still for a moment, her fingers beginning to shake with nerves once more as she viewed my scrawny torso, taking in my clearly visible ribs, my deathly pale skin pulled tautly across my body, not to mention the vast collection of scars that decorated my torso. I could see her eyes moving fearfully from the long thin scars brought about by a whip, to the shorter but thicker ones of a belt buckle, to the thick scar beneath my left breast, onto a series of scabby scars and red wheals from my gypsy days dotted around my chest and back . I was used to my scars, and compared to my face; they were nothing. But to someone that had seen only beauty in their life, they would be utterly repulsive. My fingers tilted her head upwards, removing her glance from a thick, white gash across my stomach - a memento of my first failure to perform.

I wanted her to touch me so badly, it was a wonder that I didn't force her hand on my chest and make her treat me as I wanted to be. But as soon as I saw the disgust in her eyes, I knew that I couldn't. To force her would be to rape her, and I would never sink to that. No, I could never make her touch me; but I could touch her. I moved towards Adara, and pressed my plush body against hers, letting go of the girl's sumptuous bottom, and bringing my hands up to the sides of her full breasts, that were covered with only a thin, tight layer of white silk. With Adara's body pressed against my chest, all that my ever exploring fingers could reach of her chest were the very edges of her breasts, where they sloped down to become the top of her rib cage. But despite the small amount of flesh they could touch, my fingers were still incredibly content.

My body was so full of lust that I was incredibly tempted to pull of her dress and take her immediately, fulfilling my body's burning sexual demands; but another part of me made me slow down. I thought that this one night could very well be the only one that I would ever share with a woman. Of course, I could take her and fill myself with pleasure, or I could wait. I could explore the glorious form that stood before me, see things that I had never seen before and would probably never see again. I plumped for the latter option, and slid my hands, shaking with excitement, down her back and began to struggle with the complicated, traditional knots that kept Adara's exotic dress in place. Normally I would have been able to remove the fabric and untie its knots within seconds, however as they shook, my usually agile fingers become clumsy and dull witted.

Sensing my trouble, the girl straightened her back, and keeping her glance fixed on the floor, she removed my hands from the knot, and placing her own there instead. Her fingers fumbled with the fastening until the fabric that covered her top half came loose, and fell to her waist. She took a step backward, and with her head up straight, but her eyes shut, allowed me to view her.

My, how beautiful she was. Those two rounded mounds of firm, tanned skin were terrifically large, and perfectly symmetrical. On the tips of each one was a precise, pink circle, leading to an exquisite red nipple, that seemed to harden and point further upwards as I starred. They looked so ….so amazing, and all I wanted was to bury myself in their smooth, peachy flesh. My hands began to travel away from Adara's back, and move towards those fabulous peaks, until they touched. My fingers began to greedily explore them, stroking them and cupping them to feel their weight. I heard Adara release a soft squeak as I hesitantly massaged her nipples, and I felt her hands pressing themselves into the top of my back.

I loved the sensation I gained from touching her heavenly body, and I couldn't believe that I had spent so long without feeling the emotions that ran through my blood. I wanted to lift up my mask, just enough so that my mouth could be liberated and explore her as my fingers were doing. But how could I? She had probably heard the stories of my wretched ugliness, but to see it herself would scare her beyond her wildest imagination. How could I make her see my disgusting, malformed lips feasting on her flesh? I couldn't. If I had been handsome … well, it is no good to dwell on impossible dreams.

Contenting myself with my hands, I used then to explore down to Adara's lean stomach, smooth sides, and down to the flimsy top of her skirt, that rested on her rounded hips. I brushed my fingers over the seam and almost gasped as I realised what magnificent prize lay under the fabric that I was delicately fondling. I lifted my head up to look at Adara's facial expression; her eyes had opened revealing a mixture of shyness, false modesty and succumbing; the look that all harem girls are trained to wear. I felt her hands move slowly up and down the length of my back, hesitantly rubbing my sides and caressing the base of my spine. I watched as Adara nuzzled my neck, her fear of me evidently subsiding. She didn't resist as my fingers began to pull at her lower half of her dress, rolling down the fabric until it fell to the white marble floor.

At this, I moved forward until her womanly place met my only remaining covered area. I moved her hands to my rear, where they fearlessly grasped my buttocks, her lips placing a million soft kisses to my neck, I could take no more of this exquisite torture.

"Remove them Adara," I commanded hoarsely, my voice rough and drunk on lust.

Removing her face from my neck, she shot me an overwhelmingly sexual, seductive smile, sending erotic thoughts into my head.

"If you command me to _master_," she whispered into my ear, saying the final word with such seductive power that I couldn't prevent myself gruffly reaching for her thighs and buttocks and squeezing them as passionately as I did.

Adara's little hands reached for my waistband, and tugged away the restraining silk, until our sexes touched. She then took a little step backwards, and despite her obvious efforts not to, her eyes turned their gaze straight to my penis. In response to the sight, Adara raised her preened, black eyebrows and her beautiful lips, swollen from kissing rounded as her eyes opened a little wider. No longer able to push back my demanding emotions; I snatched the girl up into my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, her arms wrapped around my neck, her breasts pressed against my chest and her legs dangling in the air over my arm.

Without any hesitation, I hurried into my bed chamber, where I lay her gorgeous body atop the satin throw on my large, European style bed. I could still scarcely believe it, a monster such as I was, was being allowed to enjoy such a beautiful creature as Adara. A virgin, provided especially for my pleasure. I positioned myself above Adara, using my arms to support my body, and prevent me from damaging my gift with my weight. Adara's hands remained glued to my neck, and her legs resting nervously on the sheet, shaking a little as she moved them apart. I knew it was custom for a man to treat a harem girl with distance, especially in acts of intimacy but I couldn't help but tell her what was on my mind

"Your so very beautiful Adara," I whispered, as I lowered my pelvis, pushing my enflamed penis into her intact little body, savouring each burning new sensation. Adara was exactly what the Khanum said a woman should be; neat and tight, warm and welcoming, giving me pleasure I had never before known, in unimaginably large quantities.

I thrust into her again and again, releasing a series of deafening moans as I did so. I had never once felt this way before in my life; I felt so very alive, so very amazing. I was no longer a dead corpse: I was a man, moving in time with his partner, hearing the sounds of pleasure that escaped my astounded mouth. I moved in her for an untold span of time, until I had finally released every primal yearning in my soul, and collapsed by Adara's side. Feeling sensations of pleasure and fulfilment I had thought I would never know.

For the first time of my life, I was complete.


End file.
